Beautiful Nightmare
by EricFancier
Summary: Fear and attraction can sometimes be closely related, as Lafayette is about to find out. Lafayette/Eric, mild slash. Set in S3E03.


She was finally asleep. Leaning against the doorframe, Lafayette watched the slouched outline of his cousin beneath the zebra-striped bed sheets. Her hair was a knotted mess on the pillow, her face puffy from all the crying and screaming. She looked like shit. But at least now, she was calm. It had taken a hefty cocktail from his stash of 'unwinders' and at least three households worth of paper tissues, but as it was, Tara was on a break from the pain and would not be returning for a while.

"Baby girl…" Lafayette said into the darkness, shaking his head slowly. "You are the world to me, but that son o' a bitch had it coming. Bad blood…"

Lafayette muttered silently as he walked through the night-clad house into the kitchen, absentmindedly stroking his lower back. Tara's boyfriend could not have picked a worse time to go and get himself killed on. Lafayette's back ached from the long hours of landscaping in the hot sun, his arms ached from swinging pans and fryers all over the place until his palms blistered… But that he could manage, he had done it just fine up until now. The sterile light from the fridge lit up his face as he opened it. He reached for the half-eaten chicken sandwich, but he couldn't ignore them no matter how much he tried. They were all there, stashed neatly at the far back of the top shelf, inside a plastic box with its lid on the side. The deep red liquid stared at him from inside their glass bottles. Lafayette stared back for a while, feeling his gut cringe. Then, he grabbed the sandwich and shoved the door shut with a thump. Bad blood indeed.

Lafayette landed on the couch like a bag of bricks and brought his tired feet up to rest on the tabletop. Sighing, he knitted his hands under his head, locking his gaze on the creaky ceiling fan. He could not take his mind of the V – or the icy voice of Eric's twisted footwoman for that matter – for more than a few seconds at a time. He was an excellent salesman, but he had only been able to get rid of a third of the batch that had been dumped on him. He was getting desperate, and people were starting to get suspicious about the bargain prices he was forced to apply… Lafayette felt his mind starting to race again. For the first time in ages, he also felt how exhausted he actually was. He threw a glance at the sandwich on the pile of magazines. He would rest for a while and then eat it. Just close his eyes a little, so that he would have the strength to lift his arms…

He had only barely fallen asleep when he was startled awake again. There had been a noise. Lafayette lifted his chin and followed the ray of weak, sterile light that came from out the kitchen door, creating shadows in the otherwise dark house. The fridge. Somebody had opened the fridge.

"The fuck…?" Lafayette mumbled, tilting his head as he slowly got up and moved towards the door.

It could not be Tara, he was sure of it; she should be asleep until noon tomorrow at least, she was feisty as hell but those pills would have knocked out someone twice her size… it was thoughts like these that crossed Lafayette's mind as he entered the kitchen, and yet he had was so taken aback by the sight that met him that he had to grab the wall behind him for support. There was someone in there, and it was indeed not Tara. The tall male blonde that was leaning casually into his fridge, apparently checking out its contents, was wearing a forest green t-shirt that hugged his muscular shoulders tight, along with snug black jeans. Around his neck was an elegant bronze chain. Though he only saw him from the back Lafayette recognized him instantly, he would have done so from a mile away. He was _humming_, Lafayette realized now, and it made his whole body stir. It was the same melody as when he came walking down the stairs to the basement of Fangtasia…

"You…!" Lafayette breathed.

Eric Northman turned around with one eyebrow raised, an amiable smile on his lips. His pale blue eyes were piercing through the gloomy room. Lafayette felt a shiver traveling down his neck, oddly paired with a warm flicker in his stomach.

"Hello Lafayette…" Eric said velvety, and the right corner of his mouth turned a small, devious curl.

Lafayette just stared at him, partly because he didn't trust him in the least, but also partly because the vampire before him was a god damned vision of wickedness, so fine-tuned it only served to strengthen his already massive sex appeal. Lafayette had noticed this before of course, but he had been so busy being scared shitless of him that the full impact of it hadn't reached him. But now… was he really scared? Surprised, yes, but scared? Eric crossed his arms, still smiling, and Lafayette noticed that his jaw had dropped somewhat. He quickly closed his mouth. Eric made a nodding gesture towards the fridge behind him.

"You know, you should really think more about what you eat. There's mostly just junk in there."

"How could you be here?" Lafayette said slowly. "I didn't invite you."

Eric gave a short chuckle.

"Oh, I believe you did. I also have a distinct memory of you being attached to my wrist moments later, gulping down an awful lot of my blood…"

Eric's words were laced with something Lafayette could not define. The memory of the blood washed over him, the taste, richer and stronger than anything he'd ever felt before, and he blushed. But that was not the worst part. The worst part was how his body was suddenly tingling as he remembered the aftereffects of drinking said blood, in all their vivid clarity. Lafayette turned his eyes to the floor, using his right hand to scratch an imaginary itch on the back of his head.

"Yeah, about the blood…" he said sheepishly. "I haven't sold it out yet… the shit is good as hell but you've got to give me more time. I'm telling you, I've been trying harder than a nigger in a-"

A sudden whooshing sound made him look up, only to find Eric mere inches away from him, with one of his big hands on the wall behind him. A part of him wanted to recoil from him, but another, increasingly stronger part of him didn't mind it at all. Far from it.

"Enough about the blood already."

The vampire tilted his head, the shadows softening all of his features except for his eyes. His gaze had something new to it, something hungry. Lafayette faintly noticed his increased, heavy heartbeats.

"There is business, and then there is pleasure..." Eric said low.

Slowly, his free hand started caressing Lafayette's arm, sending a jolt of heat to his thighs, and it was only now that he sensed how tight the front of his pants had become. Eric's slender fingers slid up to the soft flesh at the bend of his arm. They lingered there, adding the most delicate pressure. Lafayette stared up at him as if in a daze. Eric's smile was wider now than ever before.

"I'm not here for the business…"

His hand moved softly and swiftly over to Lafayette's crotch, grasping him firmly through his pants, and all at once their distance reduced to nothing. Lafayette groaned against Eric's shoulder, his back arching against the wall as the vampires mouth was suddenly grazing the sensitive skin beneath his ear. Their lower bodies lined up and Lafayette swallowed hard as he felt Eric's obvious arousal grinding against him. He was cornered, but _fuck_,he didn't care, he was so horny his head was spinning…

"Do you want me to leave…?" Eric whispered into his neck, and Lafayette swore that he could feel his fangs there, just a breath away.

Eric's hand started to work, stroking his throbbing erection in an agonizing pace and Lafayette's hips moved up to meet him by their own accord. He was so hard, he needed it so bad…

"No…" he panted, his head falling back, exposing his burning skin.

Eric's grinned against him.

"Good boy…" he mused. His mouth lunged into Lafayette's heck, enclosing a shallow vein, and Lafayette moaned out loud as his fangs sank down, sending a raw flare of pleasure and pain through him-

Lafayette awoke with a jerk, nearly falling out of the couch. His eyes darted the dark room. He was alone and everything seemed to be as it should, except for the painful hard-on that threatened to tear his pants. That, and the fact that someone was actively abusing a car horn just outside his window. Lafayette gave a long, firm sigh, but the honks only became louder and more impatient by the second. He muttered some intelligible curse and grabbed the gold satin robe from the floor, throwing it around himself for coverage as he dashed towards the door, the echoes of the dream still lodged in his head.

_Now who the hell__ could that be…?_


End file.
